Moonlight Walks and Holding Hands (or How Things Got Started)
by Words of Heresy
Summary: - "Oh I am going walking in the moonlight with you." - "You wanna hold my hand?" (SLASH M/M Billy Crash/ Django Freeman) - see further warnings inside.


WARNING: OC, SLASH, M/M, RACIST LANGUAGE, SWEARING, SEXUAL SITUATIONS

(DON'T READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!)

A/N: This story is a fictional piece between Billy Crash and Django Freeman:

- If homosexual behaviour offends you please don't waste my time flaming

- If this pairing offends you please don't read and don't flame

*Constructive criticism is always welcome :)

* * *

"_N__ow you are one lucky nigger"_

"_You better listen to your boss white boy"_

"_Oh, I am going walking in the moonlight with you."_

"_You wanna hold my hand?"_

* * *

"Couldn't wait _huh_?"

"When you're swaying your skinny ass right in my face? I don't think so white boy."

He pressed his erect manhood against the strained buttons on the rancher's crotch. The other man released a moan that he cut short with a sultry bite to his bottom lip. Django watched the enticing display in fixed fascination.

"And what makes you think I got a thing for niggers?"

Django smiled and roughly pulled at his crotch until the buttons popped open. He sagged with relief when his manhood sprung free from the leather. Crash was watching him, his dark eyes, hooded with desire. He reached down and took a firm hold on his cock, pumping slowly and rolling his callused palm over the head. Django hissed.

"You like that nigger? Like it when I handle your junk like some two-penny, nigger, comfort girl?"

He groaned and pushed away from the rancher. He could see a note of fear enter the lust-filled eyes at his unexpected retreat. Then again Django could only imagine how he looked, sweating and breathing heavy, whole body tense and buzzing with energy. He was crazed with lust, nothing but the animal this skinny bitch bragged he was so appt at controlling.

Not breaking eye contact he shed his shirt and his pants until he stood before the other naked like the day he was born. The rancher's eyes were skipping all over his hard torso. Taking in every scar, every lash and every brand mark on his body.

Suddenly like a predator he dashed forward and pulled the smaller man against his chest rotating them on the spot so now he was the one resting against the side of the stable. Billy made an embarrassing squawk when the African grabbed him but didn't have a chance to shoot a biting remark before Django shoved one hand through his hair and pulled his head back, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Get on your knees and suck me off like a good comfort girl."

The pull on Bill's hair changed direction and before he knew it he was falling to his knees on the straw and without further instruction letting the spongy cock-head breach his open mouth. Django was surprised by the amount of enthusiasm Crash applied to the fellatio. He struggled not to growl as the surprisingly talented ranch-hand did wonders on his manhood. Polishing his rod like a pro with a small string of saliva escaping the corner of his mouth and travelled lazily down his chin. His mouth was unnaturally hot, and Django attributed this to recent consumption of bourbon; but who was he to complain. The whole experience couldn't have lasted more than a couple of minutes and Django was all but ready to spill into the rancher's mouth when the other pulled off with a wet pop.

"Did I say you can stop white boy?" Django barked down.

"I want you to fuck me nigger. Want you to shove this dirty, wet rod inside me and breed me like I'm one of your nigger bitches."

The imagery almost made him blow, but Django managed to hold himself back. Roughly he pulled the other man from the ground and was happy to notice that while going down on him, Crash had unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down a little. Spinning the other to press face-first into the wall, he let the rancher adjust his stance and put his hands up against the wood.

"Fuck me."

Django spat on his hand to wet his drying manhood and grabbing both hips began to push against the tight ring of muscle, buried snuggly between two pale cheeks. Except it wasn't so tight and his cock-head slipped through with hardly any effort.

"I see you do this a lot. Grab ankle for your faggot boss to, white boy?"

"Yeah, but he ain't got nothing to be proud of. Now fuck me hard nigger, fuck me till my ass bleeds!"

Django pressed forward with one hard thrust and lodged himself balls deep into the sinful heat. It had been too long since he's last let himself enjoy the pleasures of another man's body. Back on the plantation is was always a risk to fool around with one of the other slaves and even with Hildy covering for him on occasion, the trysts were short and hurried, more about getting off than taking pleasure. This, however, was different. He will drag this out; give the racist son-of-a-bitch the fucking of a lifetime and spoil Calvin's boy once and for all. Crash will never think of Candie again, not even when they're fucking. It will always be Django.

"Harder!"

Django obliged and soon the rhythm was breaking as his orgasm threatened to approach. He slowed down, dragged out the thrusts in hard, slow motions until he felt safe to go faster with out finishing to soon. They continued this pattern for some time until Crash, clearly unable to maintain control, came explosively against the stable wall; crying and blabbering nonsense as his whole body shook in a compulsive shudder. Django finished while gloating that the white rancher came untouched simply from the art of his masterful fucking.

Both men sagged to their knees and heaved labored breath until they were calm and cooling rapidly from the sweat. Silently they stood up, Billy leaning heavily against him; and got dressed. The bounty hunter suppressed a laugh when he noticed the rancher struggling with his pants, unable to bend down far enough to retrieve them from around his ankles due to the shooting pain in his back.

"Here white boy, let me."

Quickly he pulled Billy's pant's up and did up the buttons, then the belt, finally straightening up to look the other man over. Crash looked decent enough, save for the glazed, 'just got fucked' look in his eyes and a small cum stain on the front of his pants. Billy to, was looking him over curiously, focusing on his face when the general inspection came to an end.

"I'm gonna stay here a while, tend to the horses." Django refrained from calling him out on the lie. "You go back to the house, I'm sure Monsieur Candie's waiting for you."

He nodded, tipped his hat and made for the exit. Just as he reached the front doors he heard a shout from behind him.

"Don't forget nigger, you still owe me a walk in the moonlight."

Never looking back, Django casually replaced his sunglasses against the afternoon sun.

"Only if you hold my hand, white boy."

* * *

**R&R**


End file.
